


Stranger of the Lance

by te_lanus



Category: Dragonlance - Margaret Weis & Tracy Hickman
Genre: slight AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-30
Updated: 2015-03-30
Packaged: 2018-03-20 08:39:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3643821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/te_lanus/pseuds/te_lanus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Garrig has a decision to make will he do the right thing or not</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dragon Men and the Doorway

**Author's Note:**

> THis is originally written by Petor Wolfsbane, and is no longer available anywhere so I've uploaded it here for safe keeping. Originally posted at dlnexus.com

"You will remember."

Garrig looked down from his seat on the edge of the dusty road into the deep gully. His friend Evets stood with the young mage's horse, Beaut, patting its neck as the chestnut-colored mare nibbled the deep green grass. "You will remember that spell or I will have to become a mage for even I can remember the words," the young warrior grinned at Garrig."It's more than just words. You absorb them. They become part of you. They..." Garrig knew his friend would never understand. Though they had been best friends for years, Evets would never understand what Garrig felt to be his calling—the study of the Art of Wizardry. Garrig never told his friend how much it hurt him when Evets would make fun of his choice of study. He figured everyone could have their opinion—why get into an argument about it?

The two young men had been traveling since dawn, heading towards Garrig's home which was a little over one hundred miles away. Spell components that Garrig's father needed for his missionary work had been purchased in a large town—a place totally different than Garrig's humble village. Garrig, Evets, and the expensive items had all been faithfully carried by Beaut throughout the journey.

"We should probably get going soon. I wouldn't want to have to fight off any cutthroats while you fumble through your spells," Evets chuckled, combing his fingers through the course mane of the horse.Garrig furrowed his brow and shot his friend an irritated look. He then went back to his spellbook and snacking on a chunk of bread.Bread crumbs sprinkled down onto the black leather-bound book resting on the young man's lap and he dusted them away with his right hand, careful not to scratch a line of ink on the open pages with the pen he held in that same hand. On the open pages, lines of arcane words were written. On the particular page Garrig was writing and studying from, the line of text was broken by several heavy scribble marks.

"I am either a total dolt," he mumbled, "or my memory retention has turned to that of a dung beetle." He popped the last bite of bread into his mouth and swallowed. The spell he was trying to memorize—how to create a large malodorous cloud - just wasn't coming to him.

Evets chuckled again at Garrig's frustration. Beaut raised her head, looked at Garrig indifferently, and continued to chew a clump of grass.Garrig set the pen in the gutter of the book, then dabbed at the corners of his mouth with the sleeve of his light brown robe. He closed the book and tucked it under his arm, a long sturdy leather cord hung down from the book and was tied around his waist. "I suppose we should be getting along now. I did promise father that we would have his spell components home by this eve," Garrig said has he got to his feet.

There was a sudden buzzing sound like a score of bees rushing from a hive. The leather-bound spellbook seemed to jump from the young mage's side and land on the ground with a thud. Though it was a windless day, the book threw itself open and the pages flitted by until stopping on a blank white sheet. Garrig watched in awe as a strange script appeared on the blank page.

The horse shrieked, snapping the young mage's attention to Evets and the animal. Near the two, an area of the ground depressed as if something was weighing down upon it. There was another sound, like two pieces of wood being clapped together by a giant, and the air around the depression twinkled like a sheet of fireflies. In the next second, the glimmering air grew into a seemingly solid form—a brilliant white rectangular door.

"What the...?" Evets announced putting his hand to the sword sheathed at his side.

The spooked mare bolted from the ditch, heading up and directly towards the stunned young mage. Beaut veered away at the last minute, grazing Garrig with its hindquarters. The nudge was enough to send him roughly to the hard-packed road.

The next sight that took Garrig by surprise were the creatures that stepped out of the glowing doorway. Both creatures were the size of a large man, no less than six feet tall and half as wide. They had short, stubby tails, lizard snouts and scaly bodies. Garrig thought they looked like... dragon men.

The first one that stepped through the door, the smaller of the two, had the features like that of a man but with brass-colored, scaly-outlined skin. Its head was squarish, with a thick brow sloping down to a dog-like snout. It wore a red cloak that did little to hide its small, leathery wings. It brandished a short sword and wore studded leather armor down to its midsection. Below its midsection its thick legs were muscular and bare.

The second creature wore nothing to hide its wings that were large and looked like they could be used for flight—unlike its shorter companion. Its copper-hued oblong head ended in a long snout. Fierce eyes squinted beneath a shell-like helmet. It also had scaly skin but, the bronze-colored flesh was less defined around its face, hands and clawed feet like fine chain mail armor. A sword was sheathed at its side. It also wore heavy studded leather but around its waist were small bags—bags of spell components like Garrig wore about his waist.The first creature bent over moaning, holding its stomach, and spit on the ground.

The second creature, noticing Evets standing before them, raised its clawed hands and hissed an incantation. "Rufen zzzie gezzzchozzze von magie zuzzzammen!" An orange-sized sparkling ball of light shot from the creature's raised hands.

Garrig looked in horror at his friend as the sparkling ball hit the ground behind the young warrior. With a look of disbelief and surprise, Evets shifted his hand from the hilt of his sword and placed his trembling hand to his midsection. "G-Garrig..." he cried as he felt nothing but a huge hole where his abdomen used to be.

The young mage held back a cry as he watched his friend fall to the ground...dead.

"I alwaysss feel sssick when we go thisss way," the first creature said as it straightened up then looked at the lifeless form before it. It gripped its sword tighter and assumed a stance for battle. "Human! They were expecting usss?"

"It wazzz only one," the second one said as it lowered its hands and looked at them as if he was surprised by what they had just done.Garrig was again stunned that the two creatures spoke and spoke in his native tongue.

The first lizard creature shrugged. "Ssso, Y'naem, how clossse are we to thisss Sssolace? I could ussse a drink," it said looking up to its right, up the side of the ditch that ridged the dense woodland that the road cut through.

Garrig, trembling with fear, crab-walked backwards as fast as he could with the spellbook bouncing and skidding across the gravel road. The creature turned its head to the left, looking up towards the road."What wazzz that?"

Garrig scrambled down in the ditch on the other side of the road, crouching in the tall weeds. He reeled the spellbook in, scooped it up and held it to his heaving chest with his left hand. He heard the shuffling of heavy feet on the gravel roadway.

Regaining his wits, Garrig dug into one of the small sacks hanging off the leather belt around his waist, his fingers felt around until they grazed across the item they were searching. Pulling a dead cricket from the sack, he dropped the spellbook and clutched the dead insect in his left hand as he quietly but meticulously enunciated the words of a spell. "Prenda a criatura." A wisp of white smoke filtered through the fingers of his clenched left hand and flowed like a spectral snake up his right arm."It isss another human!"

Garrig looked up at the red-cloaked dragon man who stood above him. The mage threw open his right hand directing it towards the foul-looking creature. The snaking wisp of smoke shot up into the creature's nostrils.The dragon man froze for a moment then looked down at its scaly legs. "What isss this?" it cried as it teetered like its legs could not support it. With a heavy thud and a cloud of dust, it fell onto the road; its legs stiff as stone pillars.

"Eli'Cebmi?" Garrig heard the other dragon man call out from the opposite ditch.

The young man looked at the downed creature that was trying desperately to move its legs. The Hold spell was supposed to restrain the creature entirely, not to just put its legs out of commission. It was an issue that Garrig would have to examine later.

"Y'naem, the human is a ssspellcassster," the downed dragon man growled as it pointed its sword at Garrig. "And all humansss mussst die."

Garrig stood and slipped his hands into his robe sleeves. He pulled the concealed daggers that were attached to his forearms and leapt to the downed creature avoiding the blade the thing was awkwardly waving around.The young mage was quick. He crashed down on the brass-colored creature, putting a knee on the middle of the sword arm that kept the wicked blade at bay. Another knee slammed to the creature's chest, knocking the wind from it. Garrig blanched at the foul breath but it didn't make him hesitate from driving both long sharp daggers through the leather armor into the creature's heart. He hoped that a creature resembling a man would have the organs in the same place as a man.

"You picked the wrong ssspellcaster to pick on today, dragon man," Garrig snarled twisting the blades that were buried to their hilt.

The dying thing struggled weakly. "Not dragon man. Draconiannnnn..." It let out one long gasp, then expired.

Garrig started to stand along with sliding the daggers from the creature's body when he found the weapons wouldn't budge. He looked down and immediately let go of the daggers and took a step back. He gazed down upon the dead creature in shock and horror; the thing had turned to stone.Not wasting any time, he whistled sharply and looked down the road in the direction Beaut had run. The mare hadn't gone far and turned back towards him, beginning to trot towards Garrig.

The horse was almost to him when the other creature stepped up to the edge of the roadside opposite him. It hesitated a moment, looking down at the still form of its comrade.

The big draconian looked at Garrig who stood weaponless. "You may be of hardy zzztock," it hissed, "but when our armiezzz arrive from the North, you and your Zzzolace filth will know the true power of the Dark Queen!"

Garrig was stunned again. Armies to the North? Solace? The Dark Queen? And these dragon men... these Draconians? He wasn't sure what was going on.The bronze-hued draconian raised its clawed hands, moving them in intricate arcs. "Rufen zzzie kugel dezzz feuerzzz zuzzzammen," the creature chanted as the air solidified into a burning sphere. The ball of fire grew and the draconian thrust a pointy talon at Garrig.

Garrig fell back, expecting the fireball to blast into him. He hit the slope of the ditch right as a huge explosion of flame and gore filled the air. The sound made his ears ring but he understood immediately what had happened—the horse had come in line with the fireball as the deadly magic had been unleashed.

A moment later, the rattled youth got to his feet. There was a cloud of black smoke swirling about the road. The smell of burnt flesh filled the air, making Garrig gag. He put his hand over his nose and mouth and stepped cautiously up onto the road. The remains of Beaut were almost indiscernible. The bags of spell components he had been sent out to get for his father lay burning in their containers.

A groan came from the opposite ditch.

Taking up his spellbook and slipping it into his belt, Garrig moved to the road's edge and peered over. The glowing door was still there and the spellcasting draconian lay sprawled on its belly in the deep grass in front of Evets. Its helmet had been ripped free from the blast and the right side of its face was nothing but a pulpy smear. It was missing its right arm and was very slowly pulling itself towards the glowing door with the stump of its left forearm.

Garrig slid down the bank to his friend. He looked at Evets and swallowed hard with the full realization that he had lost his best friend.

The draconian painfully groaned and Garrig looked to it. His sadness suddenly turned to rage and he reached over his dead friend and unsheathed Evet's sword. Garrig casually stepped over the creature, moving in front of the dying draconian, standing between it and the magical portal.

"Let... pazzzz..." the draconian gurgled as it halted its sluggish progress at the bloody and debris-dirtied boots of the infuriated mage.Garrig held the sword firmly in his right hand. His whole body trembled but it wasn't in fear now. These creatures had killed his friend and his horse. He didn't know what other atrocities they had committed if they were about the land.

"I want to know about the armies heading from the North and this place called Solace!" Garrig demanded, leveling the tip of the sharp sword at the bloodied forehead of the draconian. "You aren't from this world! I want to know your mission here!"

The dying dragon man, with what seemed to be every ounce of its fading strength, lifted its shattered head. With its remaining yellow reptilian eye, it glanced slowly around the area as if surveying its last view of the physical world. It then let out a gurgled chuckle. "I zzzeee... it probably dozzze not matter..." It slumped back to the ground and shuddered as its life fled from its broken body.

"No! No! No!" the young mage bellowed.

He slashed down at the dead draconian.

His anger died instantly as the blade shaved off a layer of shriveled flesh. Garrig watched as the creature seemed to decompose right before his eyes. The scaly body crumbled like an ancient piece of parchment and turned to dust. All that was left of the thing was its skeletal remains encased in the light armor it was wearing.

Totally confused, Garrig was ready to comment on the sense of all the things that had just happened when the draconian's skeletal body began to tremble. He had heard stories of fighting the undead. He wasn't sure whether to drop the sword and run or fight. His magic, at the level he was at in his studies, certainly could not help him should the creature rise.His concerns were answered when the skeletal body of the draconian exploded, sending shards of bone rocketing into the young mage's body. A large chunk of sharp bone smacked his forehead, piercing his skin, snapping his head back.

Bathed in pain, Garrig stumbled backwards, falling into the white gleaming doorway. As his gore-splattered boot tips slipped into the white, the door vanished with a sound like a huge wooden gate being slammed shut......leaving nothing but the scene of carnage and a shallow depression in the ground.


	2. Goblins, Gods and The Out of Place

"You will remember!" a squat goblin dressed in bits and pieces of armor. The armor and even the weapons had obviously been ransacked from some poor folk that could not defend themselves against the creature and its two score screeching and chattering brethren. The shrieking goblin was standing in front of its reeking comrades, letting it be known to the men before it—and mainly the ugly young one with the huge scar on his forehead—that they would remember this battle.

The other men watched as the young man screamed with a sound that made their blood, along with the surprised goblins, freeze. The young fighter threw himself at the filthy creatures with his sword drawn. The enchanted blade slashed down and left and right, splattered the autumnal grass red, matching some of the vibrant trees along the entrance to Shadow Canyon.The foul-smelling creatures broke, clanging about in armor that wasn't fit for their short stature, for whatever escape route they could find as the young warrior hacked and hewed through them. Some scurried right into the swords of the waiting human fighters who easily cut them down. 

When the last goblin fell with a choked screech, the young warrior continued to stab at the dead or quickly dying creatures. A large man, very broad in the shoulders as well as in the belly, stepped through the gore and put a hand to the young man's shoulder. "Garrig. It is done. Put down your blade, boy, before you hurt yourself." 

Garrig dropped his bloody blade, letting it rest at his side. He turned and looked the big man, Celeres, in the eyes. Celeres could only look at the young warrior for a moment. It wasn't the youth's ice blue eyes that made the burly fighter uncomfortable; it was the large raised scar above Garrig's right eye. The scar was hideous. It was the size of a maple leaf, crinkled and pointed and puffed up like a huge blister. The color of the blemish was red and purplish with faint streaks of green and yellow. It went from the young man's hairline and cut into his dark brow. Celeres wasn't squeamish and had seen all sorts of horrific wounds in battle but THAT scar—something about it was just unnatural. 

"We will get Hershell and Monitell to ride up ahead. Once we get through Sentinel Gap, we will set up camp below Gader's Citadel," Celeres said to Garrig looking down at the sword at the youth's side. The sword was also an oddity. It was between the lengths of a long and short sword, about four feet long. The metal looked tarnished but the rust color was mixed with splatterings of bright yellow that spider-webbed around the blade. He knew it was magical in nature for it cut through both bone and flesh as if slashing through rotted fruit.

Garrig simply nodded at the big man and walked past, heading across the leaf-strewn and bloody ground to the road. Celeres watched as the enchanted blade was sheathed, wondering about the strange young man and his sword.

"He is quite harmless. He fights on and for the side of good. You have nothing to worry about from him." Celeres nearly jumped out of his boots as the old man in the tattered mouse-colored robes appeared, as if out of nowhere, behind him. The old man had appeared with Garrig a day ago as Celeres and his men were heading out of Haven on their own to check out rumors of an army gathering to the North. The old man smiled. "Carry on." 

He tapped the big warrior with the tip of his wood staff, then shuffled off after Garrig.

* * * *

Garrig sat on a huge boulder that lay on the side of Haven Road. The path through Sentinel Gap lay behind him. Before him, a large vale called the Northfields sprawled flat and barren. He watched as the men from Haven checked their weapons and secured the saddles of their horses. The men would on occasion glance Garrig's way, but if Garrig was looking at them they'd quickly look away. "They think me a freak," the young man said aloud.

"It is a troubled time about these lands. Far darker days are ahead. These men only see you as a brave stranger." Garrig turned to see the old man in the mouse-colored robes descending the rocky hill side. 

"Fizban, I..."

The old man looked over his shoulder, then back at Garrig then back over his shoulder. "Who are you talking to? Oh. Oops. Forget it," the old man said, realizing his mistake.

Garrig shrugged and continued. "I want to get on with my mission here. You told me yourself that the longer I am within your world the more of a chance I may be stranded here." 

Fizban sighed, stepped down and, with a surprisingly youthful-like spring, hopped up onto the boulder. He plopped down on the hard surface, grimacing a bit as he slid a hand beneath him to rub a sore spot. "I feel partially responsible in you being here, young Garrig, along with your current state," the old man said, finally getting comfortable. 

"Takhisis..."

"Tak-who?" Garrig interrupted.

"My nemesis, who rules the troops—the draconians—you encountered in your world. She has given much power to creatures who do not know what they wield," the old man said, scratching his nose with the tip of his staff. "Unfortunately, destinies have been disrupted and I must set things straight."

"What about my destiny? What of my friend who was murdered by creatures not of my world? What of my years spent in the study of the Art?" Garrig growled as he unsheathed his sword. "All I have left of my world is this!" He looked at the sword like a curse. "And even this isn't mine!"

The old man shook his head sadly. "I am truly sorry, young Garrig. Your world's magic somehow changes here. Even your world's steel. For now, your destiny has put you here and there is a reason. Follow your course and if it is fate that you stay here—stay in this world—it will be as it should."Garrig slid from the boulder. He hit the ground and turned towards the old man. "Then let's get on with this!" the young man bellowed and stormed off to the horse that had been given him by the men of Haven.

* * * *

The breeze was cool coming from Crystalmir Lake. Chill was in the air and about the trees with their hues of purples and reds and oranges. Geese honked, gracefully cutting through the blue sky in wedge-shaped formations. Garrig and the men of Haven crouched silently in position as a large glowing door appeared between two large oaks—the exact position Fizban had told them the magical portal would appear. Most of the men shuddered in fear as they watched large hunched forms step through the shimmering gate. The travelers were in heavy robes and cloaks with hoods pulled over their heads. Their hand and feet were even bandaged as if to hide to atrocious deformities. 

The first large figure that stepped out of the huge dimensional door bent over and moaned, holding its stomach, and spit a yellowish bile on the ground. "I alwaysss feel sssick when we go thisss way," it said as it slowly straightened back up. It pulled back the hood that hid its face. The men that could see stifled their screams at the sight; the face was that of a reptile. 

Garrig, who was standing behind a tree closest to the portal, gripped his sword so firm it turned his knuckles white. He recognized the voice and it filled him with vengeful rage.

Only four creatures stepped from the portal. They quietly left the portal and walked cautiously onward into the forest along the lake, heading south. The last one, the smaller in stature of the four, hesitated for a moment and glanced behind it, thinking it had heard something other than the drone of the magic portal.

"Nazzz-El! Hurry up. We muzzzt get our package to Zzzolace before the rezzzt of our brethren arrive," the second cloaked figure snarled at the smaller one. The one called Naz-El took one more look into the woods around the buzzing portal then shambled back to the others. 

Celeres held his breath as he watched the smaller creature and its cohorts move onward into the forest. "Those are the Draconians you have told us about?" the big man said to the large oak next to him. "I've seen those cloaked figures in Haven! Should we be after them?" he whispered.

"No," Garrig returned. "You must wait for the rest of the creatures and cut them off from their target." Garrig moved from behind the large oak, keeping in the shadows of the fading day. "Their magic-user is with those four. I will handle them."

Celeres nodded his acknowledgement glancing at the glowing portal with trepidation.

"Don't wait up for me." And then Garrig was gone.

Celeres looked to the portal that hummed like a large hive of bees. He glanced up through the colorful foliage of the trees at the darkening sky. He didn't like any of this. The old man, Fizban, had gone on ahead of the young fighter. If the creatures that were invading from the north were as dangerous and deadly as Garrig had reported, the big man figured he'd probably never see either of them again.


	3. The Imposter

Garrig kept in the shadows as he followed the four draconians through the forest. They skirted Crystalmir Lake, following it around until they reached its southern tip. Checking the road (which Garrig thought unusually deserted if it was the main road), the cloaked creatures made their way east over a stream. Garrig slipped down beneath the wood plank bridge, through the cool waters, and waited, wanting the dragon men, who were moving very cautiously now, to be several yards ahead of him.

Climbing up the east bank of the stream, Garrig moved up through the tall grass and stepped to the edge of the road. "Ah-ha! I knew we were being followed!" The young warrior looked up to see the small draconian called Naz-El standing there. The creature had its sword drawn, ready for combat.Garrig snarled and launched himself at the dragon man, unsheathing his sword as he moved. Naz-El, expecting to meet the man's steel with steel, met the charge taking a step forward. Shooting low, Garrig rushed under the blade and the creature's arm. The draconian was caught by surprise as the young fighter got behind it and ferociously yanked on the back of the cloak it was wearing, pulling it off its feet. 

The draconian's fetid breath was forced from its lungs as it hit the ground.

Rolling to its feet, Naz-El kicked away the bandages and heavy robes that it had been wrapped in. "Now you will die, human," it hissed. 

Garrig stood before it with a grin on his face as he glanced down at the discarded garments. "I've heard that before," he said as he rushed back into the creature. He was either incredibly fast or the creature was incredibly slow for Naz-El didn't even get a chance to move as Garrig's blade bit full into the creature's thick neck. The draconian's head left its shoulders, bounced and rolled into the brush along side the road. The rest of the body stood in the road and turned into a gray stone statue.

Sheathing his sword, Garrig scooped up the robes and bandages. "Thanks for not ruining the clothes," he said pulling them around his lithe frame. The creature dropped into a pile of dust as Garrig headed down the road. He barely glanced at sign on the side of the road that read: Solace 2 Miles.

"Nazzz-El, you lag." Garrig almost cried out, startled as he trotted around a bend in the road. The young warrior wrapped in the bulky cloaks stopped and turned to see the second draconian, the spellcaster Y'naem, standing in the shadows of a huge tree. Garrig glanced up at the huge tree without losing the hood of his robe. The thing was the size of three or four of the biggest oaks Garrig had seen on the west shore of Crystalmir Lake. "Vallenwood. We will have kindling for yearzzz," Y'naem chuckled—it was more like a series of throaty hisses. 

Garrig only nodded.

"You zzztill have the scroll, don't you?" the draconian asked.

Garrig shrugged his shoulders and felt within the folds of the thick robe. He felt along the pockets and, sure enough, his bandaged fingers rubbed across a cylindrical object. Withdrawing it from the pocket, he held it out for the dragon man to see. They gazed upon a small scrollcase of black, highly polished wood. 

"Remember, give it to anyone working in the inn and tell them it izzz for a Tanizzz Half-Elven." Garrig slipped the scrollcase back into the robe pocket. "Now hurry along! Eli'Cebmi and Naiffur are a little wayzzz ahead." Y'naem waved Garrig on.

Without saying a word, Garrig moved down the road, shambling along like the draconians did, as if he had a wounded leg.

* * * *

Garrig entered the Inn of the Last Home with the two draconians. The building in the Vallenwood tree, forty feet above the ground, was filling with people. Garrig, standing in front of the two creatures, spotted the old man, Fizban, in a corner of the room. Even the old man became silent and staring as Garrig, in his cloaked disguise, and draconians entered the tavern.

"Can I help you?" a stout barkeep asked the three from behind the bar.

Garrig wanted to shed his robe and call an alarm. He could easily draw his sword and attack the monsters behind him, probably even down them before they could do any harm. But that wasn't his destiny, according to the old man.

The old man said that everything has a reason for being as it is. There was a reason Garrig, as a young mageling of his own world, had such a hard time studying magic. It was his desire to adventure, to actively journey out into the world that filled his head and kept his brain from absorbing the spells he tried to study. It was the warrior's blood that brought him to Krynn, to test him, to possibly show him what path destiny truly wanted him to take. He had been given a mission by Fizban - a very important one according to the old man.

"Tika, could you help find these... er... men a seat?" the barkeep said, gesturing to a pretty young barmaid. The girl turned from her duties and looked as if she'd jump right up to Garrig and his companions until she saw their heavily cloaked forms. She eyed all of them suspiciously, especially the two big ones behind the young fighter.

Tika took a few steps forward then stopped a few feet away from Garrig. "Umm... come this way," the young woman said. 

Garrig glanced over his shoulder at the two draconians, noticing them looking at the bar and the flowing ale. He reached out suddenly and grabbed the girl's hand. Tika started to reel back when he said just loud enough for her to hear, "Wait. I have something for Tanis Half-Elven." 

Pulling the black scrollcase from his pocket, he placed it in her hand.

"W-who are you?" the barmaid asked looking at the scrollcase.

Garrig felt the eyes of the draconians on him. "Nobody. Isss nobody," he answered lowering his head so she could not see inside the dark hood. He turned and pushed his way through Eli'Cebmi and Naiffur. He went to the tavern door and turned once to cast his eyes on the old man in the corner. 

Fizban, watching him, caught Garrig's gaze and nodded with a quick smile. 

* * * *

The cloaked trio moved swiftly through the darkening woodland, heading back along the path they had traveled when they had entered into Solace. The path was still unnaturally (to Garrig) lifeless save for an old dwarf, a young man sporting a brownish-red beard and, what Garrig perceived to be a halfling with a long flowing topknot bouncing this way and that. Garrig and his two draconian companions ducked into the shadows of overgrowth along side the path as the three travelers walked by. The three companions seemed to be in a hurry. The old dwarf could be overheard fuming about a dagger or something and annoying little something or others. Garrig thought the dwarf said kander or kender. He wasn't sure. 

As the traveling trio disappeared around a corner, the draconians and Garrig moved back onto the path. Garrig glanced behind as they began to move. His thoughts were suddenly on home, on his real home on a world separate from this one. He thought about his father, wondering if time had moved forward and his father found his son missing. And Evets, had anyone discovered the body of his friend and the remains of Garrig's horse? What was happening at home? And were his days as a user of magic gone also? He hadn't studied his spellbook since he had arrived. What did he want now, to be a wielder of the mystic arts or a wielder of the biting sword?

"What took you?" Garrig's attention returned to the present as everyone stopped. Y'naem stepped out before them. "We muzzzt make hazzzte back to the main portal. I have to re-cazzzt the zzzpell zzzo the rezzzt can come through."

"Hazzz the mezzzzage been pazzzed?" Y'naem said as they all began to head up the path. The big draconian looked at Garrig. Garrig simply nodded. "Good. The Blue Lady will be pleazzzed though we won't inform her of the ambush I have planned for thizzz Tanizzz and hizzz friendzzz," the draconian hissed.

The foursome moved swiftly up the deserted road. Garrig stayed a few steps behind the others looking at the dense forest around him and watching as the evening sky grew darker. His mind still on home, his family, his future should he never return to the place again; Garrig almost ran into the spellcasting draconian who had stopped abruptly.

"What izzz it, Naiffur?" Y'naem called out. Garrig could only see the other draconian, Eli'Cebmi, standing a little further up the path.The young warrior realized they must have reached the wood plank bridge that crossed over the stream where he had fought the small draconian Naz-El.

"It esss..." Garrig heard the croaking voice of Naiffur ahead in the darkness. "It esss... Y'naem! The one behind you is an imposter!"


	4. Garrig's Choice

"Finizzzh that worthlezzz human! Hizzz zzzword or zzzomething izzz dizzzrupting my zzzpell!" the magic-using Bozak, Y'naem, snarled as he stood before a gleaming white doorway. The draconian stood roughly six feet in front of the magical doorway. His arms were raised and his bared, clawed hands crackled with jagged ribbons of blue light. Underneath him, the babbling brook that slipped beneath the small wood plank bridge was drowned out by the sound of swords clanging and scarping together down the road.

Down the road about 30 yards, Garrig could see the silhouette of the magic-using draconian before the glowing doorway. He knew that this was it. He knew that the dimensional doorway was the link to his world and that the creatures from this world were ready to step into his. He knew it like an arthritic person knows when it is going to rain by the aches in their joints. The horrible scar on his brow was throbbing like the heavy beat of a bass drum.

There was another thing that was telling the young man that what the draconian stood before was a door to his homeland. The spellbook that Garrig had barely touched since he had arrived on Krynn felt like it was ready to burst into flames. It was held securely within his waist belt, pressing against his hip. The unnatural heat it had started to give off when the magical door appeared almost got Garrig in trouble.

When Garrig had been exposed for what he truly was (not one of the wretched draconians) by Naiffur, Y'naem had teleported away as Garrig shrugged the stinking robes of the dead Naz-El from his body. He unsheathed his magical sword and watched as the red eyes of the other two draconians as they advanced upon him. The first draconian, Eli'Cebmi (Garrig certainly knew this fetid monster by now), approached him right as Y'naem summoned the dimensional door. Garrig almost did not get his sword up in time to meet Eli'Cebmi's when the heat of the young man's own spellbook felt like it was going to burn into his side.

"The next world you'll be stepping into is the afterlife... or whatever hell you were spawned from!" Garrig snarled as Eli'Cebmi's sword swept down diagonally from right to left. Garrig's magical sword, his friend's sword—had somehow attached a unworldly razor sharp edge when it had entered this world—came up, steel ringing against steel, as he connected with the draconian's blade. 

"Doesss not matter. Thousssandsss of our brethren come from the North," Eli'Cebmi hissed as he drew back and readied again to strike. "Sssoon thisss place will be in the possssssession of the Dark Queen."

The Dark Queen? There were so many questions Garrig had. He wondered more about who Tanis Half-Elven and his companions were. He wondered more about this forthcoming war and the draconians who were descending upon this beautiful land. He had hardly seen this world called Krynn. So many questions.

A dark shape dropped from the sky, hitting Garrig like a sack of potatoes and forcing the youth to the ground.

"Follow Y'naem. I will deal with thesss human." Naiffur, the second draconian growled as its leathery wings folded back down, hugging its back. "Esss mine to avenge Naz-El!"

Garrig struggled beneath the weight of the foul draconian. For a moment he could hardly move and his right arm was pinned so that he could not bring his sword up. The draconian shifted to one side, Garrig freed his sword arm and brought the hilt up. Naiffur shrieked in pain and rage when the sword hilt crashed into his skull. 

Out from underneath the draconian, Garrig sprang to his feet. Naiffur was up in an instant also, shaking his head. The creature held two weapons in its clawed hands. The weapon in its left hand was a short wooden post. The post was encased at one end with a metal cap out of which was protruding a number of nasty spikes. Some of the spikes were slightly bent and dulled. The weapon had obviously been used before. In the creature's right hand was a curved short sword.

"Naz-El might not have been a formidable foe," the draconian said as it began to twirl and spin each weapon around in large arcs before Garrig, "but you will find me of greater experience and deadlinessss. Probably one of the deadliest in..."

Garrig leapt forward with his sword up, running it right through the thick neck of Naiffur. The draconian's voice trailed off in a gurgle of brackish gore, arms and weapons dropping to its side. "You talk too much," Garrig said yanking the blade out.

The big draconian, devoid of life, fell forward. Garrig cried out realizing his mistake of not moving away from the creature in time. He went down to the dusty ground with the weight of a draconian statue upon him.

Garrig struggled to get out from underneath the dead Baaz. He moved enough to get a view of Eli'Cebmi and Y'naem. Eli'Cebmi stepped through, then vanished into the white light of the dimensional door. Y'naem was close behind, following other draconian into the magical portal. Garrig cried out in rage. He knew that this was the time, this was the moment where the strange creatures would enter his world, kill his friend and destroy the material Garrig had purchased for his father.

The stone draconian on top of Garrig turned to dust. Garrig leapt to his feet, coughing and slapping the dust from his body. With dust still in his eyes, he ran for the glowing doorway that was beginning to shrink. He stepped into the doorway as it flashed like a star burst. It left him blinking rapidly, trying to clear the spots that danced before his eyes. When his eyes became adjusted to his surroundings he found himself still on the road, standing on the wooden bridge. "No! No! This cannot be! I am too late!" he cried, dropping to his knees.

"It is never too late for action if you know what outcome you seek," a voice said from out of the darkness. Words of magic were spoken and a soft blue light broke the darkness revealing the old man, Fizban.

"My foes have escaped. I have failed," Garrig said getting to his feet.

"No. You have succeeded in the greatest of ways," the old man said, stepping closer to Garrig. "You have assisted in sending the heroes of the upcoming war on their path. You have saved them from an ambush that would have jeopardized their destiny. You have done great and heroic deeds here, young Garrig."

"But what of me and my destiny? Where do I belong? It was an accident that I came here and..."

Fizban cut the young warrior off. "There are no accidents. There is a purpose and reason for everything in your world and this world. It is now your decision to what destiny you wish to pursue and fulfill."

Garrig looked at the old man not believing what he heard. He had a choice? 

"If I stay here my friend Evets will die."

"If you return, your friend will still die. That is fate. You, however, have a choice," the old man said, placing a hand on the forehead of the young man, moving the dark bangs from Garrig's brow and running his old fingers over the grotesque scar.

Garrig closed his eyes, feeling a sense of peace pour over and through his body like cool refreshing water. He felt all troubles take flight and all pains ease. He felt himself floating like a feather. A bright warm light seemed to envelop the young warrior; he could sense the light through his closed eyelids.

When he opened his eyes and found himself in a ditch along a dirt road. He saw his dead friend along with the remains of the draconians, Eli'Cebmi and Y'naem. On the road was the smoking remains of Beaut, Garrig's horse, and...

"You! Put those down!" Garrig called out to a brown-robed figure that was patting the flames from two saddle bags. The figure looked down into the ditch, eyes growing wide. Garrig raised his sword as the figure raced down the ditch towards him. "I've had enough of you filthy murdering drac..."

The robed figure passed right through Garrig as if he were a phantom. 

Garrig turned to see the figure crouch down before... Garrig.

"Are you all right, young man?" The cloak of the hood was drawn back revealing the face of a Healer of Yonshi, a group of traveling clerics of Garrig's world. The cleric rested his hand on Garrig's forehead and when he withdrew it, the nasty wound (the young mage had received when the draconian had exploded) was gone.

"What is this?" Garrig the warrior asked, as Fizban materialized at his side.

"It is you. The magical portal the draconians opened became highly unstable when it appeared in your world. The spell was absorbed by your spellbook, which twisted it even further. When you fell through the portal to Krynn you were split into two individuals. That is why you had no real yearning for magic on Krynn," the old man explained as he watched the cleric assist the young mage. He sighed with a slight smile. "Someday they will return."

"What?" Garrig the warrior said turning his full attention to the old man.

"Nothing."

The cleric looped an arm under the stunned magic-user and slowly moved up to the road. The man whistled one quick sharp note. A small brown burro broke from the dense underbrush on the other side of the road and scrambled up to the cleric and young mage. "You are a Dushar. I could tell from the symbols on the saddlebags. I will return home swiftly and safely," the cleric said gently lifting the young man onto the donkey.

Fizban set a hand on the shoulder of Garrig who stood beside him. "I can restore you to your former self without harm. However, as it must always be, you will not remember your time on Krynn."

"And if I do not return to...my former self?" Garrig said looking down at the blade in his hand, the sword of his dear friend. He at least had this, the sword, as a reminder and what a wonderful weapon it was in this world, on Krynn.

The old man smiled broadly at the young warrior's last statement. "You will find there is purpose for your existence upon Krynn. And, if any place, Krynn is in dire need of heroes at this time."

Garrig looked at the cleric and the burro that carried his other self down the road. He felt an ache in his heart. He wished to see his father. He realized... he would in a way.

"What of these creatures? These draconians? How will I know this world will be safe from an invasion from them?" Garrig asked Fizban.

"I will see to that not happening. You have my word. I am a very... powerful person... on Krynn," the old man said with a sly grin. 

Garrig looked once more down the road at the shrinking figures. He glanced around at the land, at the thick woodlands, at the blue sky. He was comforted with the thought that Krynn had all those features also. All those features and more! "Will I remember this place?"

"You will remember."

Garrig took one more look around. "Let us go, old one. If these few dragon men have caused all this trouble in my life, I can only guess what they have in store for Krynn and that Tanis fellow and his companions." Garrig sheathed his sword and looked to Fizban.

Fizban waved his left hand and a glowing doorway sprang up in the tall grass of the ditch. "Venture into your destiny, young Garrig. The world of Krynn awaits."

Garrig stepped through the glowing portal and was gone.

* * * *

The old man stepped over to the still body of Garrig's friend, Evets. He scooped up the silent young fighter like a baby, cradling him in arms that were stronger than they looked. "Come, my friend. There is a god of your realm I would like you to meet." The old man, with his armload, faded away as he seemed to ascend an unseen staircase. 

The glowing door vanished behind him.

In the tall grass where Garrig the magic-user had laid, a black leather-bound spellbook flitted open. On a particular page, glowing arcane words began to un-write themselves like yarn being pulled away from lace holes. With the page becoming blank and clean of any text, the book closed itself and sprang up to the roadway. The book tumbled and twirled after the burro and its load like a leaf caught in the breeze. It, as everything in the world, had a destiny to fulfill.


End file.
